Chapter 4: The Price of Survival

“You hit him?” Casey handed me a cup of hot water, eyes wide.

Her eyes were wide, a mix of shock and pride. She pressed the mug into my hands, the warmth seeping into my frozen fingers. I cradled it, grateful.

“Yeah. He tried to make me his mistress.” I curled up on the couch, fighting off the waves of stomach pain, slowly sipping the water.

The heat soothed my throat, the pain in my gut easing a little. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, grateful for the small comfort.

After a while, I suddenly ran to the bathroom and threw up. The nausea hit me fast and hard.

The nausea hit fast, sending me scrambling. I barely made it in time, the bile burning my throat. Tears pricked at my eyes as I knelt on the cold tile.

Casey patted my back. “With your stomach, you shouldn’t be drinking.”

Her hand was gentle, steady. She didn’t say I told you so, just rubbed slow circles between my shoulder blades until the shaking stopped. I let myself lean into her comfort.

I took a few breaths, wiped the water from my lips after rinsing out my mouth, my esophagus burning. I stared at the floor, exhausted.

I stared at my reflection in the bathroom mirror—eyes red, hair wild. I looked older than I remembered, worn thin by everything I’d carried.

“After loving him for so many years, was it worth it?”

Casey’s question hung in the air, soft and sincere. She leaned against the doorframe, concern etched into every line of her face. I felt my throat tighten.

I looked up at my reflection in the mirror—wet lashes, dark hair stuck to my forehead, my face a little pale. I barely recognized myself.

I barely recognized the woman staring back at me. There was a hardness there now, a resilience I’d earned the hard way. I wondered if it was worth the price.

Casey’s words sounded distant, muffled. “If you hadn’t broken up with him, he wouldn’t be where he is now…”

Her words floated through the fog in my mind, half-heard. I knew she meant well, but it didn’t make the truth any easier.

I thought again of Adam’s fiancée. Compared to me, she was so much brighter, more radiant. I vaguely remembered that I used to be like that, too. The memory ached.

I closed my eyes, remembering the girl I used to be—full of hope, laughter, light. That girl was gone, replaced by someone who knew how to survive.

But after falling so hard and finally crawling out of that pit, everything had changed. I felt the weight of it in my bones.

Every scar, every setback, had carved a new version of me. I wasn’t sure I liked her, but she was all I had.

When Casey finished her shift at Lakeview Estates, we held hands, walking back to our rental. The snow crunched under our boots.

We trudged through the snow, our boots leaving twin tracks behind us. The streetlights cast long shadows, the world quiet and still. For a moment, it almost felt like we were kids again, sneaking home past curfew.

Suddenly, I got a call from Adam’s friend. My heart dropped into my stomach.

The phone vibrated in my pocket, the name flashing on the screen. My stomach twisted, old dread rising up. I braced myself for bad news.

“Julia, if you’re struggling, I can help you find a job.”

His voice was awkward, hesitant. I could tell he didn’t want to be making this call, and that made it worse.

I said nothing, waiting for him to continue. I wasn’t about to make this easy.

I let the silence stretch, refusing to make it easier for him.

“They’re getting married next month. Hannah Miller’s a good person, comes from a good family. You…” He trailed off, unsure how to finish.

The implication was clear: Don’t cause trouble. Don’t look back. I bit the inside of my cheek.

“I won’t bother him again. Don’t worry.” My voice was flat, emotionless. I wanted him to hear how done I was.

He was silent for a while, then tried to explain, “We just want Adam to be happy.”

The words stung, but I let them pass. Everyone wanted Adam to be happy. No one ever asked what I wanted.

“Mm.” I didn’t trust myself to say more. The call ended, leaving a hollow ache in my chest.

Back then, every single friend ended up on Adam’s side. I tried not to let it eat at me.

It hurt, but I couldn’t blame them. He was the golden boy. I was just the girl who left.

After the call, Casey’s eyes were red. “They don’t understand anything.”

She sniffed, wiping her nose on her sleeve. I squeezed her hand, grateful for her loyalty. She was the only one who’d stuck around.

“It’s fine.” I tried to sound convincing, but even I didn’t believe it.

Since I’d be staying here for a while, I found a job near home. The thought of starting over made my stomach knot.

I scoured job boards, sent out resumes, took whatever interviews I could get. Pride didn’t pay the bills.

At the interview, HR looked at me suspiciously. “You were treated for depression?”

Her tone was clinical, almost bored. She tapped her pen against my file, waiting for an explanation. I took a steadying breath.

“It’s in the past. I’m fine now. I have a doctor’s note.” I slid the paper across the desk, trying to sound confident.

My hands shook, just a little. I hoped she didn’t notice.

Several companies had turned me down before because of this during background checks. The sting of rejection never got easier.

The stigma was real. Every rejection felt like a reminder that I was damaged goods.

This company was smaller. That night, I got the job offer. It felt like a lifeline.

The email popped up just before midnight. I stared at the screen, relief flooding through me. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was something.

I thought the class reunion would be the last time Adam and I crossed paths. I told myself it was over.

I told myself it was over, that our stories had finally diverged for good.